It was about a week ago, I was getting in my car. For the first time in 23.5 years, the sound of paws had gone silent. There would be no dog at home waiting for me to arrive. I had said my goodbyes and waited a few minutes after his heart had stopped, but the last of my three pugs, Nugget, had left this world. I had processed what was happening. I had not fully processed it though.

I’ve had a good number of pets in my life. When I was born, we had two cats. Mother Kit was the princess of the house, she had been with my parents since early in their relationship. Her little brother, Dude, used to lay with me in bed, he was my protector. When she passed, he wasn’t far behind. My grandmother took me for a new cat, Milo. Milo was young and wild. Unfortunately Milo wasn’t very happy and left us after a few years. From there was a break with pets during my teenage years. Then on Good Friday of 2002, Lizzie came home. She was our first, original pug. In every way, she trained us in having a dog. She was super smart, and figured out how to communicate with people who were beginner dog people. A few years later, in 2007, I came home from Iowa and met Sweetpea. She was wild. She was fast. She was fiercely independent and wanted what she wanted. Everything was a game for her, and she knew exactly how to play human psychology. Just before Christmas in 2014, my father went out to “get the family gift,” and brought home Nugget. Nugget’s previous owners (I still have no idea who they were) were going to take him back to the pound. Somebody who knew my Dad made the connection. Nugget had a new home. He was wild. He jumped from couch to couch. He ran all over the house, especially when the mailman came to the house. He begged for food like Lizzie did. He even chewed up some of my mother’s furniture. Nugget and his family had some getting used to each other to do. But we did.

The tough part about all pets is the reality of time. If they live 15 years, they had a great life. We are supposed to live five times that, at least. About a year and a half after Nugget came home, we said goodbye to Lizzie. He and Sweetpea hadn’t been super close at first, he kind of annoyed her. Suddenly, they were always together. If anything, they were the closest pair in the family, even if they both had their own spaces to occupy. For over six years they patrolled the house together. He calmed as he aged, and he was eventually diagnosed as diabetic. Shortly after that, he lost his eye sight. I remember being almost shocked when I realized she was helping him learn his way around the house and watching over him. I also remember in her final days, I was upstairs and she had a seizure, and blind Nugget came upstairs to tell me to come down. They really did take incredible care of each other. Better than people do.

If you take the right care, you can outperform any expectation, but you eventually can’t outrun fate. When Nugget was diagnosed with diabetes, the prognosis was one to two years to live. He lived about three and a half. It was about three years where he was the lone dog in the house. He had an incredible sense of where everything was, particularly for a blind dog, and he had an amazing sense of routine. He knew what time it was, without a clock. He developed a trust in us, that things would be as they were supposed to be, and they were. I’d like to think that even his senior years were pretty nice. Eventually they had to end, and with his health issues they were going to get more difficult. He was a happy animal though in his life.

Over Nugget’s last year, he and I were both facing some health issues. Our daily greeting the first time we saw each other became a ritual. He figured out navigating a room with walkers and wheelchairs. I figured out navigating a room with Nugget. We both learned a lot. He stuck with me though, and much faster than expected we were back out on our daily walks. They were slower and shorter than a decade ago, but we didn’t care that much. Or at least I didn’t.

You can’t find better loyalty than a pet, particularly a dog, anywhere in humanity- it’s literally something that has developed in their DNA over millennia. As I said above, the hard part is knowing that eventually you’ll be parting ways, and moving on with life. Their whole story is their time with you, in your home, for a blip in history. Amazingly, while our time extends beyond their’s, I do think they have a larger impact on the story of us than their years suggest. They teach us, shape us, much more than we initially understand. It’s been about a week on the dot now, and my entire routine is fucked up now. The lack of consideration for what my dog needs feels weird, almost stupid. Like, what’s the point? Certainly some people get this from children and elders they care for, but it’s important to understand that those are humans and eventually will develop a level of separation and independence of you that dogs do not. When wolves and human first began this bond, this dependent relationship, millennia ago, it was a bond of convenience. Dogs were extremely helpful for hunting, people had fire. Now we all literally live inside houses together. Dogs are proof that family is a chosen bond built, not a hereditary title. This way just means so much more.

So, it’s been a week. The house is quiet. There are no paws tapping the hardwood floor, no snores from a snoozing pup, no one with me in the kitchen to beg. It’s probably a larger change after 23 years than someone dying. Nugget was a fun boy, he enjoyed his life. I’ll miss petting his head each day. I think he did know it, but he got me through a lot of dark days.

Enjoy some more Nugget shots.